Why Finding Your Own Personal Jesus Is Worth The Trip

Getting older is a reflective phase of life that goes beyond the physical alterations that get more stunning with each passing year. There’s an appreciation for the privilege of our existence that serves as the alarm bells for what is going to transpire when leave this earth.

The past three years have been a brutal lesson when it comes to the reality of how powerless we are when faced with the inevitable departures that are expectedly harder on those who are left behind.

It’s not like the notion of death is the best kept secret that reveals itself with blindingly abruptness when we’re old enough to appreciate its levity. But perspective on this never-ending mystery centered around the proof of where we all end up when bodies are free from spirit, becomes that much more urgent when you can no longer pretend that living forever is an option.

My childhood was immersed in the practice of Christianity, and our assigned branch was Anglican or the Church of England, and it would take adulthood for me to discover that the illustrious doctrine that acknowledges the Queen as the supreme leader, was founded by the gluttonous and murderous King Henry VIII, who left the Catholic Church and formed his own version for the purpose of divorce and marriage to the mistress that he ended up beheading.